Deceiving the Protector by Dee Tenorio Page A

long as they can find a good enough reason. Especially me.”
    “I think that’s the one thing you and I can agree completely on.” The warmth of his voice made her look up, surprised to find it was in his eyes as well. It was all she could do not to melt under that steady stare. How did he do that? Turn his gaze into a caress that all but stroked her cheek? How did he know when she needed it, even if she could never accept it?
    “Yeah?” She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. It had been so long since someone had looked at her with approval, she knew her resolve against him didn’t have a chance in hell of staying firm if he got it in his mind to melt it.
    “Absolutely. You’ve got to be the most obstinate, uncompromising female I’ve ever met.”
    “There’s a compliment in there somewhere, right?”
    The bastard, all he did was grin.
    “So is fresh bread and broken knuckles the best thing you remember about your childhood?”
    “No. Not even close. I have a lot of good memories from back then. Hell of a lot more than most of the folks I meet on the Underground. I know how lucky I was, even if it didn’t last.” He frowned into his coffee, taking another drink that did nothing to hide the sadness she could sense beneath the calm expression he wore.
    “I was lucky once, too,” she offered, hating to see him feeling bad for having a happy childhood. No one should feel bad for that. “My parents really were good people. They tried to give us a good life, one where we could live just like everyone else. Free to do whatever we chose. The raid didn’t happen ’til I was almost twenty, so I’d had years and years to learn from my parents. To remember them. No matter what was done to me after, no one could take those memories away.” She thought back, considering something he’d like to hear. “I was named after my parents’ best friend. She was the crankiest, nerve-rackingist old lady you’ve ever met.”
    “You loved her,” he guessed and she was glad to see that twinkle back in his rainwater eyes.
    “Completely,” she answered with a laugh. “And she spoiled me rotten for it. My parents used to have to steal me back home.”
    “Is that where the holding-your-breath-to-get-your-way thing started?”
    “Who do you think taught me?” The memory had her almost giggling. “She’d be all of ninety-five now, if she’s still alive. Totally blind but don’t think for a second you can get anything past her. Aurelia is a force of nature.” The warmth of the memories faded slowly. She could still see Aurelia’s gnarled hands and brown, time-lined face. The thick white hair she’d used to brush, that special Aurelia scent of old lady and sheer stubbornness.
    Of all the things she missed, Aurelia ranked right up there with her parents. Unlike them, who she couldn’t often allow herself to think about or it would hurt too much, Aurelia was a source of strength. An example that there was never a reason to give in. It was the greatest irony in this life that Asher preferred to use her full name, never knowing that his threats were always laced with a reminder to stay alive.
    She ate her food quietly for a while, and he let her. The interrogator had morphed into the thinker. She could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he watched her, the questions he was telling himself he was closer to answering. That needed to stop.
    She took a drink—and a fortifying breath. “Do you think Resurrection can last?”
    “What?”
    She could take a little pleasure in catching him off guard, couldn’t she? “Well, all these shifters in hiding…We’ve survived because no one knew what we were. We were spread out, rootless. If all of us gather in one place, doesn’t that just make us easier to get rid of all at once?”
    Great, what was that smug look on his face? “I’m guessing you’ve never heard any of the stories, then?”
    “What stories?”
    “Pack lore.” He hitched a